


Happy Steve Bingo

by belovedmuerto



Series: in a cabin in the woods [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Happy Steve Bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-17 16:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: All of my fills for the Happy Steve Bingo!





	1. log cabin/camping

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to post all of my bingo fills here. I'm going to make each fill a chapter so they are all together, but each fill is complete, and they're not necessarily related. Chapter titles will be the square they're filling.
> 
> \--
> 
> The first couple of fills takes place in my 'cabin in the woods' series.

Bucky trudges around the side of the house, tired to the bone. Refinishing floors is exhausting work. He’s looking forward to a big dinner and falling into bed and sleeping the sleep of the truly wiped out, hopefully with his best guy snoring gently at his side.

There is a tent in the front yard.

There is a tent in the front yard, and a Steve sitting in a camp chair under the little awning off the entrance to the tent. There is a cat in his lap, and a book in his hands.

Bucky stops short, and Steve looks up and grins at him. He holds his arms out like ‘look what I did!’

“What. The fuck,” Bucky says. He resumes his trudge, across the yard to stand in front of Steve.

“I found a tent. I thought we could sleep out here tonight. It’ll be nice. Weather’s supposed to be good!”

Bucky lets his head hang, and his shoulders droop. He glances back at their lovely little log cabin, where their lovely bed is currently languishing in the attic with most of the rest of their (thankfully still sparse) furniture. Out of reach. So close, and yet so far.

He looks back at Steve, who is glowing in the late afternoon sun, with happiness and pride that he’d set up the tent for them.

Bucky hates to dash that, but-- 

“Steeeeeve, beeeeeeed.”

Steve’s smile falters a little, but he gets up, being careful to gather the cat in his arms, steps to one side and pulls back the tent flap. “There’s an air mattress. It’s king size.”

“But,” Bucky tries again, “Bed. _Real_ bed.”

Steve gives him the puppy dog eyes, and Bucky knows he’s powerless against those. He has been since he was somewhere around ten years old. Even then Steve had known exactly how to play him. And he generally played dirty. “C’mon Buck, give it a shot. It’ll be like camping. We don’t have to drive the dogs into town. I’ll take you out for breakfast in the morning. I already got everything we need for dinner.”

Bucky pouts for another couple of minutes, but he has to admit that Steve seems to have thought of everything. He glances inside the tent, and the dogs’ beds are all in there, and a cooler, and the bag Bucky had packed is already on the air mattress, which is piled high with their blankets and pillows.

It looks cozy. Dammit.

He’s sunk, and he knows it.

“Okay,” he agrees, as reluctantly as he can manage.

Steve starts glowing again with happiness, and honestly, that makes it worth it.

Bucky trudges into the tent and sits carefully on the air mattress. It’s nice and firm, and the tent is pretty big, almost tall enough that he doesn’t have to stoop inside. Steve ducks in after him and drops to his knees in front of Bucky.

Bucky lifts and eyebrow at him, and Steve smirks. “Give me your feet.”

“Kinky.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he starts taking Bucky’s boots off for him. Bucky flops back and stares at the roof of the tent, and lets him. When his boots are off, Steve rubs his feet for a few minutes, and his calves, while Bucky groans in appreciation. 

“How far did you get?” he asks.

“Ugh, I don’t wanna think about it.” Bucky lifts his head, and Steve shrugs at him. 

“You wanna eat now, or wait a while?”

Bucky has to think about that for a minute. “Wait a while. Come up here?”

Steve obeys, laying down on the air mattress with him. He’s still got the glow around him. He’s been doing that a lot, since he’d come down and found Bucky, and stayed. 

Bucky’s starting to believe this may work. He turns to face Steve and snuggles close to him, and makes a happy noise. 

Steve chuckles, and they stay like that for a long time.

\----

By morning, they’re more or less sleeping on the ground, in a tangle of limbs and blankets and dogs.

Steve groans as he sits up, and Bucky makes grumpy noises, trying to get him to come back.

Steve twists around, stretching as best he can, and looks down at Bucky. “OK, tonight we get a hotel room.”

Bucky grins at him.


	2. bad fashion sense

Steve’s stuff doesn’t take up much room in the closet when he first moves in. All he’s got as far as clothes go is some button downs and khakis, that one pair of jeans that Natasha had nagged him into buying, his leather jacket, and workout clothes.

And the uniform, but he doesn’t really think of that as his. Those belong to Captain America, not Steve Rogers. Especially now that he’s semi-retired.

Bucky had watched him unpack things and hang them up with a weird look on his face, but he hadn’t said anything, and Steve hadn’t asked. He didn’t know how.

The first thing that appeared was a sweater, cozy and blue and soft as a cloud. Steve had smiled to himself when he found it in his drawer, and maybe hugged it for a few minutes before putting it back.

He mostly lives in workout clothes these days, because he’s helping Bucky finish up the house as much as possible (some days all he’s allowed to do is make lunch and bring Bucky glasses of water while he works. He doesn’t like those days—they make him feel useless— but he understands why Bucky doesn’t always let him help), and Bucky teased him that he should wear the khakis and button downs but he doesn’t want to ruin those.

They disappear, after a while, and Steve realizes he has almost an entirely new wardrobe. One that feels, if not exactly highly fashionable, at least far more modern than what he’d been wearing. And he likes it. He’s comfortable in these new clothes. 

Every time he gets dressed, he feels a little thrill at the new clothes, and what they mean.

\----

Bucky joins him in bed late, he’s been out in his workshop doing something after dinner and had told Steve not to wait up. The house is nearing completion, and Bucky has been dividing his time a bit more between the work of the house, and the work he loves.

Steve snuggles over into Bucky, tucking himself around him and giving him a squeeze. “Thanks, Buck,” he mumbles, more than half asleep and sappy with it. Loose, not trying to be careful of his words. “Love the clothes.”

Bucky snorts and presses a kiss to his head. “Never buy clothes for yourself again, you’re terrible at it.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees.


	3. first time(s)

They’ve had a lot of firsts. Firsts together. Firsts in their little cabin in the woods. The normal ones, like the first time they had sex in the cabin (on the kitchen floor, about ten minutes after Steve showed up for the first time), and the first time the shared a bed. The first time they cuddled on the couch together. The first piece of furniture they picked out together.

“It’s huge,” Steve points out, staring at it critically.

“I know,” Bucky replies, and the glee in his voice is infectious. Steve finds himself smiling along with him, despite himself.

“We’ll have to buy all new sheets,” he adds.

“Think of the thread count, Stevie,” Bucky replies. He’s still grinning.

Steve rolls his eyes. “And blankets, too. What’s it called again?”

“A California king.”

“Will it fit in our room?”

Bucky just grins at him.

\----

There’s the first time Bucky gets the whistle Steve uses to call the alpacas right.

Steve is standing on the porch, with Hooch leaning heavily against his legs, and a cup of coffee in his hands. 

Bucky is out by the pasture, leaning against the fence, whistling. It takes him a few tries, but he gets it, and the alpacas come trotting over to him after a few minutes.

Bucky glances over his shoulder, and Steve is smiling at him so hard that his cheeks hurt. Bucky’s been trying to get it right for ages now, and Steve can feel his happiness from where he’s standing.

He watches as Bucky gives both of the beasts the treats he has in his hand, and thoroughly scratches their ears, before he turns and heads back to the house.

\----

The first time they cook together is definitely not the first time they cook together. But it stands out in Steve’s mind as the First Time They Cook Together, so it counts, dammit.

He’s sure Bucky would argue, but it doesn’t really matter in the long run, it’s just a memory that he treasures. It makes him happy, and it makes him even happier that it’s become a thing for them, that they try to cook together at least once a week. Usually on Sunday. Childhood habits die hard, and they both grew up with Sunday Dinner being A Thing. Less so for Steve than for Bucky, until Bucky realized that Steve didn’t get that so often because of the hours his mom worked, and started insisting he come to the Barnes family Sunday Dinner.

“So what are we making?” Bucky asks. He’s definitely giving Steve a critical look.

Steve ignores that. “Roasted chicken, with rice and veggies and biscuits, hopefully. If you make them.”

“I dunno, Stevie. What’ll ya give me?” 

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Biscuits. And chicken. Rice. Veggies. Food, Buck. I’ll give you food.”

“You could blow me,” Bucky suggests. He bumps their hips together, before he starts getting out the ingredients for biscuits.

Steve pretends to consider that for a moment. “After dinner.”

(The chicken comes out a bit dry, but the biscuits are amazing. As is the blowjob.)


	4. awkward with kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fill number four on my card: awkward with babies and/or kids.

“So, Sandy does a July 4th thing every year, do you want to go this year?”

Steve looks over at Bucky, who’s pretending to read his book, like he’s not absolutely focused on Steve’s reaction. “Is it going to end up a birthday thing?”

“No,” Bucky responds, and the absolute certainty in his voice makes something in Steve relax.

(Captain America’s birthday may be the 4th of July, but Steve Rogers’s is very much not.)

“Is it fun?”

Bucky smiles at him. “Yeah, Stevie. Lots of food, dogs, and kids. It’s pretty great. I usually leave before the fireworks start but Sandy gives me some sparklers. Her brother leaves early too, so they all get it.”

Steve is glad to know they won’t have to stay for the fireworks. “Sounds good to me.”

Bucky grins at him, a little sly. “You’ll be good with the kids?”

“I’m fine with kids, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

\--

Steve is not great with kids.

Babies? Babies he’s fine with, now that he’s figured out how his new body works. There was a while here he was afraid he’d crush them, just holding them. But he’d been friends with Bucky, after all, and his two youngest sisters hadn’t been born until after they’d become friends. Bucky had done his part helping out his mom with the girls, and Winnifred had not spared Steve his share of having to help, too.

So he has no problem with babies. He loves babies, honestly (so does Bucky, and Steve loves watching him with babies because it brings out the older brother Bucky and that is a delightful thing to behold).

Toddlers aren’t really any worse, just a bit more verbal, and heavier.

It’s the older kids that Steve is unsure about.

He just doesn’t know how to act around them. He never knew how to act around kids when he was a kid, and he never learned.

So it’s kind of unfortunate that all of the slightly older kids at the barbeque seem to have gravitated to Steve. Because he doesn’t really know how to talk to them, and it makes him feel tongue-tied and dumb.

They all recognize him immediately, and ask him a lot of questions, which he does his best to answer. One of them does ask if today is really his birthday, and he tries to explain that it’s Captain America’s birthday, but not actually his.

“So did you get serumed on the 4th of July?” one of the little girls asks.

“Well.” Steve blinks at her. At all of them. They seem to range in age from about 4 to about 10. The bigger ones are holding on to the younger ones that they seem to be related to. Or the ones they like the best, he’s not sure. They are all staring at him with curious eyes, and he feels like he’s about two inches tall.

“Well,” he starts again, when he realizes they’re still staring, and he hasn’t answered. “Um. No, not actually. Um.”

Thankfully, this is when Bucky slides up next to him, smiling down at all the kids like the natural he is. Bucky loves kids, and kids love Bucky.

Steve has probably never loved Bucky more than he does at that moment, when Bucky starts talking.

“So, Captain America is supposed to protect America, right?”

“He protects everyone!” One of the kids insists. 

Bucky points at her. “Yes, he does.”

“He tries to do what’s right,” Steve adds, softly. Bucky leans over and bumps their shoulders together. Steve smiles a little.

“So since America’s birthday is today, Captain America’s is today too. Even though Steve is Captain America sometimes, that doesn’t mean his birthday has to be the same as Captain America’s.”

The kids seem to accept this, even if it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. But Steve breathes a sigh of relief, because the kids are dispersing, off to play.

Bucky hands him a sparkler, and lights both it and the one he’d kept for himself. They stand together, shoulder to shoulder, watching the sparklers burn down. It’s getting dark.

“Ready to head home?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Steve replies.


	5. free space: knitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and for my free space and BINGO fill: knitting

Steve is very diligently ignoring Bucky, down at the other end of the couch looking comfy and warm and like sex on legs.

It’s not fair. Steve gave him that cardigan. Steve _made_ him that cardigan.

Bucky’s down there, still dressed smartly for the party they’d gone to, smirking. Not smirking at Steve, just smirking. Like he knows he can Get It. With his hair pulled back neatly. Steve just wants to mess it up.

Desperately.

He should not be angry knitting, but he is. Because he’s a stubborn cuss, and he does not want to give in.

He will give in.

He’s not even actually angry about it. Just feeling stubborn and tense and-- Aroused. He’s fucking _aroused_.

And Bucky knows it. 

Hence the smirking.

Steve does his best to keep ignoring him, and very pointedly picks up the pattern he’s working on and reads it through again.

There’s a muffled noise that might be a snort, from Bucky.

At the end of the couch.

In that sexy grey cardigan that Steve made him from silk and merino.

Smirking.

Goddammit.

Steve knits as slow as he can make himself, one stitch at a time, watching Bucky out of the corner of his eye. Bucky is watching him out of the corner of his eye.

He takes as long as humanly possible to finish his row.

He sets aside his knitting, very deliberately, very slowly, taking utmost care with it. (He is one hundred percent certain he’s going to have to rip out at least the row he just finished, if he doesn’t have to frog the whole damn thing.)

Steve turns his head and glares at Bucky. It’s only a little bit ruined by the way he’s grinning, too.

“C’mere,” he growls.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://www.belovedmuerto.tumblr.com)


End file.
